This First Person article is the experience of Joana Valamootoo, who’s originally from Mauritius and now lives in Regina. For more information about CBC’s First Person stories, please see the FAQ. This story is part of Welcome to Canada, a CBC News series about immigration told through the eyes of the people who have experienced it.
There was a chill in the air on the autumn day when I finally found the courage to ask my husband to take me to the emergency room. All week, constant dark and intrusive thoughts had been chasing me, telling me to end my life and hurt my baby, while my whole body was feeling intense physical pain.
As a new mother in a new country, it was hard to ask for help. I wondered, “What if they decide to take my baby away from me? What will my family think of me? What will my husband think of me? Am I a bad mother?”
I’d grown up in Mauritius where admitting mental health struggles came with a huge stigma. I’d never heard of postpartum depression and didn’t know that was what I was experiencing.
For weeks, I’d been keeping all my innermost thoughts a secret. It was like living a double life where I had to fake my happiness and contentment as a new mother when I was around other people. But every night, the intrusive thoughts would come and haunt my existence.
When I had first found out I was pregnant about a year prior, I was happy beyond words and felt I was going to be a good mother.
That feeling lasted all the way up until the time my partner and I walked hand-in-hand through the empty corridor at the hospital in the early morning, looking forward to meeting our little person.
After my son was born and brought to me, I was expecting to feel love and excitement, the joy of a new mother. Instead, I felt nothing — only emptiness.
My son was colicky, and with my husband away working long hours, I felt lonely. I was operating on little to no sleep. I began to feel as though there was something in the house — some not-human presence that was watching me — and became convinced something evil came with my son when he was born.
Then one day, two months after his birth, I found myself changing my son’s diaper when he looked up and smiled at me.
I felt immense joy and sadness at the same time. How could I not feel love for that tiny angel? In that moment, I felt the emotional connection that I’d been longing for, and told myself, “He is my baby. The baby I was singing to everyday when he was in my belly, the baby I had been waiting to meet.”
Even still, the dark fog of intrusive thoughts didn’t lift. Every day, I would take my son on long walks to clear my mind, but those thoughts continued to haunt me for about eight months after his birth.
That was the point I finally told my husband I needed help. He, too, had never heard about postpartum depression and hadn’t understood why I was crying so much. Like me, he was scared of our child being taken from us. But after having seen the intensity of my postpartum psychosis, he agreed we needed help.
When we went to see the doctor at the emergency room that day, I finally got the courage to express everything on my mind.
Tears gathered in my eyes as I spoke, but I felt free.
With the warmest eyes, the doctor took my hand in his and said with a low voice, “It’s not your fault. You are experiencing postpartum depression, and we will help you.”
He explained to my husband that I have postpartum depression and the pain I was experiencing was also a symptom of depression. I was later diagnosed with fibromyalgia, a health condition that can also cause pain and fatigue.
I was prescribed counselling, as well as medication to help me cope with both my mental disorder and fibromyalgia.
After so many months of living in fear and pain, I was getting the help I needed. I was finally feeling the joy of life again. I realized that if only I had been strong enough in the beginning to ask for help, I would not have suffered for months living with the crippling effect of depression. I want other new mothers who may be struggling to know what I faced, so they know they are not alone, and that they too can find help.
When my husband and I welcomed our second child into the world, I felt instant love for her. This time, I understood what so many other mothers have said they felt after giving birth.
Meeting that kind doctor got me the help I needed to claim my life back. Ten years later, I still live with a chronic health condition and mental health challenges, but now, I look at my children and feel a rush of protectiveness — the love that I first felt when I changed my son’s diaper and saw him smiling at me.
I’m here every day not just for myself, but for them.
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